Mystery Science Theater Ferelden
by dragonmactir
Summary: ONE-SHOT. Queen Anora of Ferelden goes looking for answers in the afterlife. What she finds is surprising even to her.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Dragon Age_ or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

 **Rating:** T

 **Spoilers:** Probably none

 **WARNING:** Really stupid. I mean totally. But thankfully a one-shot. Won't make sense at all if you are unaware of a cult classic. Will only mostly make sense if you are aware of the cult classic, but unaware of the Netflix rehash. Probably won't make sense either way. But I had to do it. Been thinking about ways to do a crossover fic for far longer than anyone ever should.

 **MST Afterlife**

"I thank you, Lady Morrigan, for coming to my aid."

"A most gracious welcome, Your Highness," the witch replied, with a half-bow. "I confess myself surprised by your summons. Of all the high-placed people who might have sought me out for my talents, I never thought one would be _you."_

Queen Anora of Ferelden scowled and shook her head slightly. "Ordinarily I would not have done, for I do not generally hold with supernatural claptrap such as ghosts and speaking with the dead. However… recent events have lead me to believe that there may be good reason for me to… reach out, if possible. And I have it on good authority that if anyone _can_ do this, it is you."

"You wish to reach beyond the Veil, to someone no longer among the living?" Morrigan said, eyebrow raised. "To whom do you wish to speak? Or do I even need to ask?"

Anora paced across the dais. "I daresay you do not. I wish to speak to my father."

"You betrayed him at the Landsmeet. Are you so certain he wishes to speak to you?"

"He of all people would understand my reasons. And he remains my father."

"Very well. I shall perform the ritual."

Morrigan set up a bookstand on which she placed a great, ancient tome, which fell open naturally to a certain page. She barely glanced at it as she began to chant the words to the ancient ritual, waving her arms over her head as purple light gathered crackling around her. Anora held her breath, wondering what, if anything, was going to happen. Finally, from the great purple cloud that gathered in the middle of the Little Audience Chamber, a voice, rusty and apparently cranky at being disturbed, spoke.

" _Yes, what is it you want?"_

"Father!" Anora gasped.

" _Anora? Well, I guess it's good to hear from you, girl. You caught me at Commercial Sign. You haven't got much time before I have to go back into the theater, so make it quick."_

"Er… what?" Anora said.

" _Never mind,"_ the familiar voice said. _"Just say what you want."_

Anora sighed. "Advice, Father. I am at my wit's end."

" _You must be, if you're talking to the dead. Out with it."_

"It's Alistair, Father. He's… turned into more than I expected, as a King, but… as a husband… he is… an atrocity. I cannot abide him. The best times are when he ignores me. The rest, I cannot even put into words. What can I do, Father?"

A pause. _"Put poison in his tea. Or a dagger in his heart, if you want to get more personal. Since when do you need me to solve simple problems like this for you? Or_ any _problems for you? He took my head in a fit of pique yet you married him anyway. Did you really expect he'd be a warm, loving husband to you?"_

Anora dropped her arms to her sides. "No. I just… thought he'd be a little more pliant than this. I'm sorry I bothered you for this, Father. But it was good to hear your voice again."

" _And yours as well, my dear. Do take care."_

"Wait, Father, don't go - tell me, how is it, where you are? Have you… seen the Maker?" Anora asked.

The voice laughed, a robust and bitter sound. _"Me? See the Maker? You're kidding yourself, girl. Not unless this 'TV's Son of TV's Son of TV's Frank' fellow - or, 'Brandon,' as the other one insists his name is - is the Maker in disguise, which I suppose would make this 'Tallis Forrester' bitch Andraste. Neither likelihood seems possible to me in my position, but I suppose the Maker works his wonders in mysterious ways. I will say, if this is the Void, it's not what I expected."_

"What's happening? Where are you?"

" _I'm… on something called a 'satellite.' Don't ask me to explain, it would take too long and I don't really understand myself. In any event, I'm trapped here, with a bunch of metal creatures called robots, one of whom is golden with a net on his head and another is red and white with a big round, clear head. The three of us have to watch crappy movies these two idiots Tallis and Son of Son of Frank send us, trying to make me go mad so they can study the results. But it's not working, because the robots are already insane, and they spend all movie making sarcastic jokes about the people and the scenery and what's going on and whatever else they can think up, which works right along with what little sense of humor I have, so I've started doing it, too. It's actually kind of… you didn't hear this from me… fun."_

"What's a movie?" Anora asked.

" _It's hard to explain. I don't think it's been invented yet, but that doesn't seem to matter here in the afterlife. It's like a painting, but straight from life, so it looks like life, and it moves like life, and it talks like life. And it's really stupid, like life. At least all the ones they show me are. I think they're Orlesian. This one we're watching now is about a big tornado that picks up a bunch of big, hungry sharks and drops them on a city. The people have to fight for their survival with whatever's on hand, but most of them get eaten. Somehow, I'd rather think a shark that gets picked up by a powerful tornado and carried inland would be too dead to be hungry, but what do I know? I'm not a meteorologist_ or _a marine biologist."_

"A what or a _what?"_ Anora asked.

" _Never mind, my dear. All other things aside, these experiments have been quite the education for me, really. Don't know how much of it is solid and how much is bullshit, though. Mostly sounds like bullshit to me."_

"You're having… _fun_ … in the afterlife?" Anora asked.

" _A little, maybe, here and there. Hey, a man's entitled, after the life I've led, isn't he? I've got to go now, Movie Sign is flashing, and if I don't make it into the theater before the movie starts up again, the mads hit me with this thing called a cattle prod. It's not as fun as it sounds. Goodbye."_

"Well, that was interesting," Morrigan said as she ended the ritual. "Of all the things I might have expected to hear."

"Yes, that's not what I might have expected, either. Well, if it's punishment, at least it doesn't sound _terribly_ horrible," Anora said.

"Except for that 'cattle prod' thing. That left my imagination reeling, if Loghain Mac Tir considers it something not to be risked. A _dead_ Loghain Mac Tir, no less. Did you find the solution to your problem, Your Highness?"

"Not exactly. I'm certainly not going to kill Alistair - the people love him too much. But Father was right. I've never run to anyone to solve my problems for me. I have to figure this out on my own. Perhaps… if I simply sat him down and talked to him. That might have been a big part of what was lacking between myself and Cailan, come to think of it."

"Communication is a great and wonderful thing, Your Highness. None of us would be anywhere without it," Morrigan said, and bowed herself out of the chamber.


End file.
